


Endlessly Healing

by Trin303



Series: Endlessly Yours [2]
Category: John Wick (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Nurse! Helen Wick, rated M FOR MURDER
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:26:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26444854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trin303/pseuds/Trin303
Summary: Part Two of the Endlessly series, although you do not need to read part one. Stand-alone one-shot.How John Met Helen, the nursing AU that no one asks for.When nurse Helen is walking home from her shift, she finds an injured John Wick hiding in the alley. Against all reason, she takes him home and tends to his injuries.
Relationships: Helen Wick/John Wick
Series: Endlessly Yours [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1922308
Comments: 3
Kudos: 29





	Endlessly Healing

He was sitting in an alley, blood spilling from his abdomen. The bullet had gone through, at least. That wasn't what worried him.

The man who had come to kill him worked for Tarasov. Tarasov had access to the Continental. Every road within a mile radius of the hotel would be blocked, snipers on every building. And he could barely walk after the knife cut into his leg. And he was losing blood.

He needed the doctor but he was almost certain he wouldn't be able to make it to the Continental. Not with half of the mafia looking for him.

One kid. One fucking kid.

He had refused to kill an infant and this was Tarasov's reminder: the bastard owned John's contract. He had until 6 pm the next day to make it back to the Continental. Otherwise, the contract would go worldwide.

"Are you alright?"

She's standing at the edge of the alley, keys between her fingers. She looks innocent. But he can pull off innocence. On a good day, he can pull off nice.

"Fine." He growls.

"You're not. You need a doctor."

"All good here."

She looks around cautiously and steps into the alley. 

"Gunshot?" She asks, kneeling down in front of him. "My name's Helen. I'm a nurse."

He doesn't say anything, not trusting himself to speak. Her eyes were soft and kind and he had definitely lost too much blood because he wanted to trust her. 

She reaches forward, keeping both hands purposefully visible for him to see, and places one on the wrist to the hand covering his wound.

John let's her move his hand to the side and lift up his shirt. 

"Handgun, close range. In and out?"

"In and out."

"There a reason you're not trying to go to a hospital?"

He nods once. Succinct.

Helen looks around. "I live a few blocks down. Can you walk?"

John feels a change in his breathing. Increased heart rate, his throat becoming smaller. The frantic beat pounded in his chest that he knows has surely existed but has never been so painfully aware before. 

Again, he nods.

She offers him a hand and helps him to his feet, wrapping a small arm around his hips, low enough to avoid his injury. She takes his arm and drapes it over her shoulder.

"You got a name?" She asks as they begin a slow hobble out to the street. 

"John."

"John." Helen repeats, "nice to meet you, John. How has your day been?"

If he had the ability to move his head without the valid concern that he would fall on his face, he would have stared at her.

"Oh, you know." He says instead, gritting his teeth as his leg trembled under his weight, "shot. Stabbed. I've had better."

She hums, "you look like someone who has had worse, too."

He didn't deny it.

She led him down a short flight of stairs and into a basement apartment. She leads him through a clean but cluttered living room and into a bedroom. Helen helps him to the bed, tossing a nightshirt to the side.

John groans, leaning back into the bed.

"Phone?" He asks, certain his had been destroyed.

Helen reaches into her pocket and unlocks the screen with a swipe. She hands it over before disappearing from the room and John types in a number.

It rings twice. "The Continental."

"I need to speak to the doctor."

"Please hold."

Music plays softly over the speaker and Helen re-enters with hands full of towels.

John sits up and let's her layer them beneath him. "Shirt." She says and John unbuttons the white and now red dress shirt.

"How bad is your leg?"

"Not a priority."

She helps as John pushes off his jacket and shirt.

The music ends. "This is the Doctor."

"It's Wick." He says, "I need medical assistance but I can't make it to the Continental."

"Where are you, Mister Wick? ”

He recites the address and Helen helps him lay back. “Not feeling too good, Doc.”

And the room fades to nothing.

  
  


.

There’s a bright light shining over him and he hears the Doctor’s voice.

“Suture.”

“Suture.” Echoes a softer, friendlier voice.

His eyes flutter open and he sees her again. Her brown hair is tied back now and seems to glow. He looks further down at his own body. The doctor has cut one of his pant legs open and is stitching up the wound there. His torso his bare but he appears to be patched up if the bandages are any sign to go by.

“Hello John,” Helen says with a soft smile.

“‘Lo. Doc.”

“Mister Wick.” The doctor sticks the needle into his flesh and John grimaces. “They’re looking for you downtown.”

“Figured.”

“You’re very lucky you were found by Miss Kingston.”

“I am.” John agrees, looking back at the woman in question. She’s wearing gloves and assisting the doctor. He’d never seen the doctor let anyone help him before. But there was something very special about her. 

He couldn’t help but feel sorry.

She had taken a man home to help him off the streets. And now she had the Boogey Man in her bed.

John watches her intently. She’s beautiful. And kind. And like nothing in the world he has seen. She’s… good. That’s what she is. And the world eats good people alive.

He felt his heart clench and some unknown emotion filled him. Something familiar. It tasted bitter on his tongue and he could feel the pressure under his skin increase before he recognized it.

Fear. 

He had almost forgotten what it felt like. But he was afraid that she would be swallowed up.

“Done.” The doctor said. 

Helen starts to clean up and the doctor finds a bottle of pills in his bag.

“Take two, every six hours. Will I see you tomorrow, Mister Wick?”

“That’s the plan,” John says. “Thank you, doc. I’ll pay you tomorrow.”

“Of course. Good luck, Mister Wick.”

He leaves with a final few words to Helen. She laughs softly and responds just as quietly. 

“I’m going to lock up and go to bed.” She says with a small smile, “Is there anything I can do for you before?”

“This your room.” It’s not a question, more or a realization. “I can sleep on the couch.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You were just shot. And stabbed. And operated on. I can handle a night on the couch.”

John pushes himself to a seated position. 

“Oh no, you don’t.” She crosses the room pushes on his good side’s shoulder. He doesn’t budge. “You’re taking the bed.”

“You’ve done more than enough for me.” Says John.

“Take the damn bed, John.”

“Share it, then.”

The words leave his mouth before he even has time to process the thought. Sharing. He had never been good at sharing anything. He had never shared a bed for more than a few hours. It wasn’t safe to have someone so close to you when you’re at your most vulnerable.

But he didn’t have a second thought.

“Please.”

Helen nods, slowly, carefully. “Okay. I’m just going to lock up.”

She disappears from the room and he wonders, briefly, if he has lost his mind.

Christ. 

She returns a moment later, still in her scrubs. She doesn’t appear to care as she crosses over to the other side of the bed.

“Are you sure--”

“Yes.” He cuts her off, opening the blankets for her to crawl into. 

She does so, laying on her side so that she faces him.

“Not quite the way I imagined my day going.”

John turns his head to face her, still lying on his back. “No, I imagine not.”

“How do you feel?”

“Like I could use a vacation.”

“Where would you go?”

He doesn’t know. He wonders if that’s normal. There is nowhere that interests him. No place that he feels the need to see. There was no point in traveling when he truly didn’t care.

“I don’t know. Where would you go?”

“Belize. Or maybe the Caribbean. Somewhere warm, with a beach. Or maybe to the mountains for a weekend. Just let myself get away from all this.”

“Sounds nice.”

"Yeah. Also sounds impossible. I don't remember when I last took a vacation."

"Why not?"

"Loans. Still paying off college. Plus I live alone in new york city. Not exactly cheap."

"Someday?"

"Someday." She yawns and closes her eyes. "Goodnight John."

He's not sure how, but she falls asleep in minutes, lying in bed next to a stranger. 

She finds him in an alley, shot and stabbed, carried him home and treats his wounds. And falls asleep by his side.

How can she be so trusting?

The Bogeyman is in her bed and she had no idea.

He watches her face, studying ever freckle and every curve. She's lovely. He doesn't want to blink or fall asleep, because he can he look away.

But exhaustion takes over and he closes his eyes. When he dreams, it's of her.

  
  


John wakes up first. He's not sure when it happened but at some point, during the night, he had shifted over to his side and Helen was trapped in his arms. She was facing him, head resting on his bicep, lips parted as she quietly breathed. 

He loosened his grip just a but and she moaned, snuggling into him closer. 

Would she, he wondered, if she knew who he was? What he was?

Probably not.

That feeling sunk into his stomach, hurting far worse than the bullet.

She was far too good for him.

Helen hummed and he felt her hands move softly against his chest.

"You're thinking too hard, Mister Wick."

She looked up and opened her eyes.

"Good morning."

"Good morning." She echoed. "How are you feeling?"

His heart rate betrayed him again.  _ Amazing. Phenomenal. Better than ever.  _ All true things.

"Pretty damn good."

She smiles, eyes sparkling. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." The words spill from his tongue before he can stop, "have dinner with me tonight."

"Okay."

He's screwed. He is completely in over his head. 

John smiles.


End file.
